


The Spider

by JonSnowTheArachnid



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Minor Original Character(s), Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-01 01:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6494746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonSnowTheArachnid/pseuds/JonSnowTheArachnid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After losing his remaining family in the Chitauri incident, Peter Parker has no one left to guide him,and what's more,he has this spider powers that only he knows about and has started seeing weird things like, is that a cyclops and a kid fighting three giants with..flaming dodgeballs? This story is based in MCU in year 2014 before The Winter Soldier and during the beginning of Sea of Monsters storyline. [Peter X Clarisse]Peter X Multi</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Spider

**Author's Note:**

> My first Spidey story!!!
> 
> Read and comment if you like!  
> Have a nice day :)

**This disclaimer applies to all the chapters here on. I do not own Spider-Man or any other characters' present in this story. They all belong to their respective authors and companies.**

**Updated (Rewritten version) on 06-Feb-2016**

 

* * *

The sun was nearing the horizon, casting a red hue on the sky. A few more minutes and the sun would have officially set. Peter Parker was sitting cross legged in front of a pair of gravestones, picking grass and reminiscing about the old times. Times when the people who brought him up were still alive.

He couldn't believe that it had been almost two years since death had rained down from the sky in Manhattan. It had been almost two years since his Aunt and Uncle died in the 'incident,' as people liked to call it. It had been almost two years since he got this…gift?

He still remembered it clear as the day it had happened.

It was the day he had been waiting for ever since they announced this at school, a trip to Empire State U. The place where magic happened, or more realistically, science.

His aunt and uncle had gone to Manhattan to show their friends the wonders of New York City. He'd grabbed his camera and went outside to wait for the bus. It seemed that the bus was a bit late today, or rather, he was early.

At ESU, Peter, along with his longtime friend Gwen, was listening to Dr. Curtis Connors talk about cross species genetics research, and how they had bred creatures who were stronger, faster, and better than their predecessors. He was speaking of how if these experiments succeeded, the human trials could change the world of genetics and the world all the same.

On the ceiling above, a large, black, genetically altered spider crawled, right above Peter. How it had escaped, no one knew. But as it dropped onto Pete's neck, it didn't particularly matter. It all happened in an instant, pain shot through Peter's neck and he went rigid, his eyes large. Gwen looked at him curiously, and suddenly he fell down, convulsing. The spider managed to scurry away. The spider bit another girl, unnoticed, but that was a story for another time.

Gwen cried out for help, and then it was a blur of images and sounds. The last thing he saw was Gwen's face as he was loaded into an ambulance.

That's how he remembered it. He was unconscious for forty-eight hours, and when he woke up, he was told that his Aunt and Uncle had perished in the Chitauri alien invasion. Just like that, the happy life he had crumbled to dust.

Their house in Queens was sold by the bank to cover the mortgage debt. He was sent to an orphanage to live, as he had no surviving relatives. He was still thirteen at the time of the incident. He couldn't believe how quickly two years had passed.

After being discharged from the hospital, Peter had started noticing a few things different about him, like he no longer needed his glasses to see, and despite his inactivity at the hospital, he had, for the first time in his life, gained a muscular physique, something like that of a gymnast's. Sometime later, he started doing impossible feats. He could cling to a wall like a spider and lift things several times heavier than him.

He was not fully sure but he deduced that this all was due to that spider bite.

The sun had gone down and stars had come out, he had been sitting there for a long time and it was time to go or lest he break curfew.

Standing up, Peter started moving towards the exit. As he was leaving, a man nodded to him. He was African American, and very tall and muscular. He was standing in front of a grave engraved with the name _Reva Connors._

Peter exited the graveyard, walking towards his home. Or at least the place he was supposed to call home, Saint Agnes Orphanage.

Peter was one of the popular guys in the school He was one of the star basketball players, as well as the school topper. He was the perfect mix of brains and brawns.

This transition from being a bullied nerd to a popular kid took some getting use to for Peter, and he let it go to his head. Who wouldn't get cocky after gaining such powers? But somewhere within him, a good person still resided, a person who had been brought up with a good sense of right and wrong. Peter, who was in the gym room full of rowdy seventh graders playing dodgeball, was working on his pet project with his headphones blaring. He had been having fun the last two years with his powers, using his new passive abilities to gain popularity through sport and all, but last week he had witnessed an incident that had forced him to take action.

Peter was walking once late at night when his ears picked up the telltale noises of a mugging. Peter chose to ignore it. It wasn't his problem that some poor sod was about to be mugged, he had better things to do. But a part of him wanted to help, the part that his family had raised him to be.

The man was desperate now, screaming for help. _If he has money,_ Peter thought, _why not give it to him? I mean, isn't his life worth more than a few bills?_

"Please no!" the man cried. I don't have much, and this is for my grandson's hospital bills, he's all I have! Please!"

It was when the man said those words that Pete's conscience awoke.

"I've got no time for your ramblings old man, now fork over the money or I'll take it _the hard way!_ " The mugger shouted.

Peter pulled the hood of his jacket over his head as he crept into the alley and snuck up behind the mugger, clocking him in the head with enough force to knock him unconscious.

"Call the cops and maybe an ambulance," Peter said to the scared old man, "and next time don't walk around Hell's Kitchen at this time of night with that conspicuous briefcase."

"Th-Thank you!" the man managed to say.

Peter just walked away, later in life he would look back on this incident as the one that gave him a push towards the life of a vigilante. He helped this man because in him, he saw his Uncle Ben. His uncle's words came back to him. With great power, there must also come great responsibility. Those words ringed in his ears, as if a reminder from his uncle, a reminder of the ways he was brought up, a reminder of what he should be.

That incident made him realize that he was wasting his gifts for selfish reasons. In the school gym, Peter was working on gadget that he would be using for his nightly activities. It was a contraption that would shoot out a stream of shearing liquid that would solidify when in contact with air, this device would give him the ability to shoot webs, which would complement his spider related abilities.

Peter had a one eighty degree turn in attitude after the mugging incident. He had realized that he had let the power go to his head, and that had led to him alienating the people close to him. Because of what his new friends thought, he had stopped talking to Gwen. Their friendship sort of had a break up, with her telling him to get his head out of his ass.

Peter realized that he had become his own version of Flash Thompson. He started seeing his school world with new eyes, his friends pushing their weight around others, he was so disillusioned with his feats of glory that he failed to see the plight of people who were like his former self.

Peter looked up suddenly. His Spider Sense, which was sort of a sense that warned him of danger, was blaring at him, filling his head with an infernal ringing. Everything seemed to be happening in slow-motion. He noticed kids running for their life, banging on the doors, a large boy, and a flaming ball heading towards where Pete's head was. He quickly ducked down, and the ball passed overhead.

Quickly strapping on his just finished web-shooters, Peter quickly entered the fray. The gym was like a battle ground, mostly empty in the center except for three large, monstrous looking boys, one black haired kid, and a large boy. Peter did a double take. Did the big guy only have _one eye?_ The giants were attacking the other two boys with flaming dodgeballs and the big kid was doing his best to catch them. The flames didn't seem to bother him. Peter filed away all this strange information. In a world where his parental guardians could die in an _alien invasion,_ this was nothing to worry about. He would've tried to solve this peacefully, but he wasn't sure where to start. He doubted that the three kids would listen to him.

As he was about to test out his web shooters, the normal looking boy ran over to the entrance of the boys locker room. He ducked a fireball, and it crashed into the door. There was an explosion, and everything from locker doors to singed T-shirts and other nasty personal things rained all over the gym, knocking the kid flat on his back. The coach was reading his magazine without a care in the world.

The cyclops kid tossed two of the flaming dodgeballs back at two of the three giants, and they disintegrated into golden dust.

Peter raised an eyebrow. Okay, that was a little weird.

But the last bad guy, the one with tattoos, knocked the one eyed kid down with a ball and sent him crashing through the wall. He was about to attack the kid with a dodgeball when Peter made his move, he tapped his two middle fingers to his palm, and the shooters shot a strand of web that latched onto the giants raised hand. Peter pulled down hard, then he quickly shot several more webs at the prone body of the giant making him immobile. The tattooed giant struggled against the webbing fruitlessly. The web formula theoretically was stronger than steel.

Thankfully, no one except the boys who were being attacked noticed him doing this, rest others were all huddled in the locker room that was blasted open.

He went to look over at the cyclops kid who was getting up, who upon recognizing Peter, backed away. He thought that Peter was there to bully him. Peter sighed, and cursed his reputation.

Peter raised his empty hands to show that the kid had nothing to fear from him.

"Hey, are you alright?! I saw you take a hit from the ball."

"I-I'm fine, thanks for saving Percy." The cyclops kid said. Percy must be the black-haired kid. Tyson hung his head,, afraid to even look Peter in the eyes.

"I'm Peter Parker." He said introducing himself to the one eyed boy.

"I'm Tyson. You smell funny!" Tyson replied.

"Umm… Thanks?" Peter said, confused.

He didn't wait for Tyson's reply, because by now, some of the braver students had entered the gym again, and the headmaster, Mr. Bonsai, was banging on the gym door.

Peter helped Tyson up and they walked back to Percy. The giant was still squirming, and then he stopped with a look of surprise on his face as a bronze dagger appeared in the center of his gut, and then he too disintegrated. Peter was surprised, and just when he thought that he couldn't be baffled more, he saw a girl appear in front of him out of thin air.

She had blonde hair and stormy grey eyes, and a Yankees baseball cap in her pocket. She looked somewhat worn out, her chin was cut, there were twigs and dirt in her ponytail and slashes on her jeans that suspiciously looked like claw marks. She picked up the knife, then turned her attention to a kid emerging from the locker room.

"It's her! That's the girl!" The kid, who Peter recognized as his friend's younger brother, Matt, yelled. The girl stormed over to him, and delivered a wicked haymaker to his gut.

"And _that's_ for dissing Percy," she said.

Matt was a known school bully. Pete didn't like him much but still, he didn't deserve to be on the ground, lips puckered like a blowfish. "Whoa! Lay off him, young lady." Peter told her.

"What?" she said defensively. "He had it coming. And who are you calling young lady, kid?"

"Who do you think you are, anyway?!" Peter yelled.

"My name is Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena. But now that I've told you that, I'll have to kill you." Peter wasn't sure if she was joking or not.

"Hey, Annabeth, lay off him, alright? He just saved me and Tyson," Percy said.

"I like him!" Tyson said, grinning like a little kid.

Annabeth looked suddenly chastised. "Oh, gods, I'm so sorry, I didn't know."

"How'd you do that?" Percy asked, looking at what had been the giant.

Peter held up a wrist. The three-inch strip of metal was obvious. "That was thanks to these bad boys. I made them." He said before realizing that he might have potentially given away his future secret identity to these kids. "Don't tell anyone, though."

Annabeth rubbed her chin. "Hmm. Maybe Hephaestus..."

"I'm sorry, what?" Peter asked confused.

"The only way I see you could have done that is if you were related to a god."

"That doesn't help much," Peter said. "And what did you mean when you said you were a daughter of _Athena_?"

"I'll tell you later," Percy said. "Right now, I'd rather work on not getting expelled again." Peter looked over his shoulder to see Matt pointing them out to what seemed like the whole faculty.

"Put these on," Annabeth said, pulling a pair of jeans and an orange T-shirt out of her backpack and tossing them to Percy, who was still in his gym clothes. Meet me outside," Annabeth said. "And yes, you can bring the cyclops." She then put on the Yankees cap and disappeared.

"Whoa! How did she do that?!" Peter cried.

"No time! We've gotta get out of here!" Percy said as he pulled on the T-shirt. He then rummaged through a smoking pair of jeans that lay at his feet, and he finally found what he was looking for…. a pen?

He grabbed Peter's hand and they jumped out of the hole that Tyson had created when he crashed into the wall before the teachers could notice them.

In the street, it took a moment to find Annabeth. Peter stepped in the road, doing a one-eighty as he looked for the girl. She was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, Peter's Spider-Sense went off, and he whirled to see a huge fire truck screaming toward him, sirens blaring. The driver was honking the horns and turning the truck as fast as he could.

"Peter!" Percy cried, and Pete found himself suddenly being pushed to the side of the road by an invisible force. He crashed to the ground.

"Would it kill you to watch where you walk?" Annabeth said, reappearing as she pulled off her Yankees cap.

Peter rubbed the back of his head in shock. He'd need to train his Spider-Sense to be more observant.

Annabeth pulled him into an alleyway, and Percy and Tyson joined them.

"Mind telling me where you found _him,_ by the way?" she said pointing at Tyson in distaste.

"He's my friend." Percy said through gritted teeth, seemingly angry with her, "And he saved my life!"

"Let me guess-he's homeless?" she said.

Before Percy could say anything, Peter interjected, "I don't know what your problem with him is, but can't you leave him alone? I mean, sure, he isn't exactly normal what with that one eye in the middle of his face but who cares? And why does it matter that he is homeless anyways? He can hear you, you know." Annabeth reminded Pete of the bullies he'd called friends at school with the way she badmouthed Tyson.

"Yeah, Pete's right why does it mat-wait, what do you mean he only has one eye?" Percy asked, confused.

"Well, don't you see it? He has only one eye, complete with an eyebrow and all, I thought everyone knew," Peter said.

"Annabeth, what does he mean?" Percy, still confused.

"Percy, when was the last time you looked Tyson in the face? Like, _right_ in the face."

Percy frowned. "A… a while…." He turned to Tyson, and stared him in the face. "Whoa," he said, "You have one eye!"

"I told you," Peter said.

"C'mon, we're running out of time," Annabeth said. "Get in the car. We've got to get to camp."

"What car? You don't look old enough to drive," Peter said incredulously.

Annabeth just rolled her eyes and started jogging away. They followed her downtown, and they stopped at the corner of Thomas and Trimble. She then started rummaging around in her bag. "I swear I had one left," she said. Then she withdrew her hand. She was holding what looked like… a golden coin?

"Annabeth, New York cabs don't accept drachmas as fare." Percy said.

She paid him no heed and shouted something in another language, which Peter recognized as Greek. The coin dropped from her hand onto the street. Peter raised an eyebrow as the coin sunk through the asphalt.

After a moment, the street portion darkened and started bubbling like dark red ooze, and a taxi cab emerged. It was unlike other New York cabs. It wasn't yellow, it was a wispy grey, like it was made of smoke

.The front window rolled down and a shriveled old woman mumbled "Passage? Passage?"

Peter was starting to think that this day was some weird dream, and he would wake up any second.

The hag pointed at Tyson and said, "We don't take his kind."

"I'll tell you what," Annabeth said. "If you take him, I'll give you two more drachmas when we reach our destination."

The old woman turned and conversed with two more hags, only one of which had an eye.

"Yes!" The one in the middle cackled. "Yes, indeed!"

Annabeth pushed them into the back of the cab. Peter found himself being flattened against the far wall by Tyson's hulking form.

"Where do you wish to go?" The third hag, the one in the driver's seat, said.

"Half-blood hill," Annabeth said clearly.

All three of the hags cackled again as the cab accelerated far beyond the normal speed limit. And, Peter noticed with dismay, the driver wasn't the one with the eye.

* * *

Percy and Annabeth explained everything on their way. Peter just nodded along, hardly able to concentrate on all the freaky stuff that was supposedly fact while the hags in the front cackled and argued, breaking about every safety rule in the book while driving a hundred and twenty miles per hour. He was sort of in shock, but with everything odd going on, it seemed almost normal. And wasn't there a Norse God in the Avengers roster? So this could be possible too…right?

Argh! He was so confused, so Percy was son of the Sea God, Poseidon. Annabeth really was a daughter of the Goddess Athena. Did that mean that Tyson actually was a Cyclops?

"We're here!" One of the hags cried suddenly, a time later. They stopped in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere.

"Thank you," Annabeth said, giving them the promised extra payment and exiting the cab. Peter fell out in relief, glad to finally be out.

They walked up a hill, and suddenly Peter saw the camp. But he also saw, near a large, browned pine, several people whom he assumed were campers fighting against three metal bulls.

"Clarisse!" Percy cried, pulling out his pen as he rushed to help.

"Wait, Percy!" Annabeth called out, "Do you know what those things up there are? They are Colchis bulls made by Hephaestus himself! We'll need Medea's Sunscreen SPF 50,000 to face them, or we'll be burned to crisps."

"Medea's what?" Peter asked.

"Yaargh!" Tyson yelled as he charged. "Bad bulls! Bad bulls!"

"Tyson, wait!" Percy cried as Tyson passed him, running faster to catch up to his meter long stride.

Before anyone could stop him, Tyson barreled into one of the bulls. A burst of flame came from its gaping maw, enveloping the cyclops.

"NOOOO! Tyson!" Percy yelled, sliding to a halt next to one of the other campers, a girl wearing a large battle helmet and carrying a spear that crackled with electricity.

The flames died, and Peter, who was getting used to weird stuff happening by now, wasn't surprised to see Tyson standing unperturbed, wearing charred clothing, but looking completely fine. Percy uncapped his pen, and suddenly, he was holding a large bronze sword. Peter shook his head. This day was getting better and better.

Annabeth ran into the fray, leaving Peter alone. He wasn't about to let the younger-than-him campers fight three elephant sized fire breathing metal bulls by themselves. Sighing, he ran after Annabeth.

Peter ran past Tyson and entered the camp territory, seeing Percy and Annabeth fighting one of the bulls and holding their own, while the other two were fighting the tough girl Pete had noticed earlier. She jammed her spear into the bull's leg joint, and it toppled over. One of its massive horns clipped the girl in the arm, and her spear went spinning across the grass. She bellowed with rage in a very unladylike fashion, and the other bull turned to face her. Seeing her defenseless, the bull charged.

Acting quickly, Peter sprang forward, ramming the side of the bull with his full strength. The bull crashed to the ground thirty feet away. He walked over to the girl and helped her up to her feet. "I can take care of myself," she growled. Peter raised an eyebrow.

Peter whirled as he felt the tell-tale tingle at the back of his head, warning him of danger.

The bull was not deterred by the fall. It snorted flames and charged up the hill, straight at Peter did a backflip-which he did not realize he could do-and landed upside down on the trunk of the dying pine, over ten meters away. His hands and feet stuck to the tree like glue, and he tapped his middle fingers to his palms again, as he had done before. Twin jets of web flew straight at the bull's maw, webbing it shut, just as it was about to shoot flames at the girl, who was still weaponless. He heaved with all his strength, sending the bull straight up into the air. Everyone in the area looked upward automatically as it flailed its limbs, crashing onto the ground.

Everyone on the hill was amazed, to say the least.

"BAD COW!" Tyson yelled again, and Peter looked to see him punch the last bull's face in.

The girl walked up to him. "Clarisse La Rue, daughter of Ares," she said, with grudging admiration.

"I'm Peter Parker, son of… uh...Richard and Mary Parker…?" Peter said unsurely.

"So, you new here?" she asked him gruffly.

"I don't even know why I'm here, to be honest." Peter said, shrugging.

"With the way you took on that bull, you're meant to be here," she said. "Hope to see you in Ares." Clarisse thumped his back, and Peter staggered. She didn't seem to notice.

Peter nodded his appreciation, and turned to see Percy on the ground, and moved toward him. Annabeth was already there and they were talking.

"-we should take him to Chiron, let him decide what to do," Peter heard Annabeth say as he walked over to them.

"You alright?" Peter asked with concern.

"Yeah, just a sprained ankle, nothing some nectar won't heal." Percy replied as he stood shakily, leaning against Annabeth.

"Jackson, if you are done hurting yourself, there are wounded campers to attend to," Clarisse interrupted. "We've gotta let Tantalus know what happened"

"Tantalus?" Percy asked, confused.

"The activities director." Clarisse said impatiently.

"But Chiron is the activities director, and where is Argus? Isn't he head of security?"

"They were fired." She said with a sour face.

"Wha-! Chiron was _fired?_ He can't just be gone, he's trained heroes for over three thousand years! What happened?!"

"That happened." She said pointing at the dying pine tree, "You've been gone too long, things have changed."

Percy and Annabeth seemed to notice the tree for the first time. They stared in shock. Peter moved toward the tree, deciding to give it a closer look.

There were dead pine needles on the ground and what remained on the tree were yellow, in the center of the trunk, about a meter from the ground there was a bullet sized hole, from it green sap was oozing. He gathered some on his finger, sniffing it. It reminded him of something he'd smelled in chemistry just a week ago.

Peter turned to the others. "It's been poisoned," he announced.

"No duh," Clarisse said.

"Uh guys?" Tyson said. "I can't move." He was pouting in a childlike manner, leaning all his weight against an invisible force that lined up with the pine tree.

"Sure, it'll work on _him!"_ Clarisse said angrily, throwing up her hands. She obviously didn't see Tyson as any threat.

"I, Annabeth Chase, give you, Tyson, permission to enter Camp Half-Blood," Annabeth said.

Tyson fell through the barrier and crashed into the ground, digging a furrow in the grass with his shoulder.

As they walked down from hill, Peter noticed tension in the air. There were people who could only be satyrs stockpiling and rearranging weapons. Elvish women with bows and arrows were talking in an agitated way at the edge of the woods. No one welcomed them, though some campers did double takes when they saw Tyson. This was far more militaristic than he'd expected. And for the life of him, he still couldn't fathom why he was here in the first place.

Percy and Annabeth led them into a big duplex home, which they called The Big House.

"Chiron!" Percy cried, as a man on a horse came into view. Peter squinted. Was it a man on a horse, or a man _and_ a horse?

"Pony!" Tyson cried in delight.  
"I beg your pardon?" Chiron said indignantly.

Peter looked at the centaur in wonder. "Chiron? You trained heroes, right?"

"Ah! I love a boy who knows his history."

Yesterday, Peter would have argued that it wasn't history, it was mythology. But recent events had changed his perspective.

"New camper, are you? Sorry I wasn't able to get to know you better," Chiron said, shaking Peter's hand.

"I… I mean… It must have been a mistake…" Peter found himself suddenly at a loss for words. Could he believe he'd just shaken _Chiron the centaur's_ hand?

"So, you _were_ fired?" Annabeth interrupted.

"In mundane terms, yes," Chiron said, scratching the back of his neck.

Percy looked suddenly angry. "Was it Mr. D?"

"That is of no concern to you. It doesn't matter, anyway. If the gods decree it, it must be in the best interest of the camp." Chiron wagged his finger at Percy as he opened his mouth. "Don't you argue? I don't want you getting in trouble." He turned to Annabeth, looking grave. "Listen. You must promise to do everything in your power to protect Percy while I am away."

Annabeth frowned. "Why?"

"Just promise! Promise me on the River Styx!"

"I-I promise on the River Styx." Annabeth stuttered. Peter heard thunder rumble in the very clear sky.

Chiron nodded once more, an element of finality about it, and clip-clopped away, Annabeth and Percy gaping after him.

"Pony, don't go!" Tyson sniffed.

"Don't call me that," Chiron called over his shoulder.

When Chiron was safely out of earshot, Annabeth slapped Peter upside the head.

"Ow! What was that for?!" he cried indignantly.

"I keep telling you," she said in a bossy, know-it-all sort of voice, " _You're a demigod._ You see through the mist. You were able to enter camp. You have _unexplainable_ abilities. You never knew your parents. What else could you be?"

"So, the only way I can be in any way out of the ordinary is if I have a godly genes."

"No… Well, yes…" Annabeth threw up her hands, looking frustrated. "I don't know! The gods don't even have genes!"

"Look, Peter," Percy said, "I don't know what to think. Let's wait and see if you get claimed."

"Claimed?" Peter asked.

"Meaning your godly parent sends a sign to let us know who you are."

Just then, Peter heard a conch shell blow. All around them, campers and satyrs put down what they were doing and began moving toward what looked like an open mess hall.

"C'mon," Percy said, jerking his head toward the pavilion. "I'm starved."

* * *

The sun was setting behind the camp, as campers filed into the dining pavilion. There was a table for every cabin. Some were empty, while others were filled to the brim with campers of all ages. Annabeth bid them goodbye and went to join her cabin mates, nearly all of whom were blonde or had grey eyes, if not both.

Peter spotted Clarisse moving toward the Ares table. She was leading some big, mean looking kids, who Peter realized were her cabin mates. As Clarisse turned around, Peter noticed that someone had taped a piece of paper to her back that read, 'You Moo Girl!' that nobody in her cabin was bothering to tell her about.

Peter frowned, his new stance against bullying taking over. He walked over to her, and lightly tapped her on the shoulder.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp tingle at the base of his skull. He jerked his head to the side, narrowly avoiding Clarisse's fist as she whirled angrily.

First rule of Camp Half-Blood, you don't touch Clarisse unless you want to be beaten to a pulp.

Now everyone in the vicinity was staring at Peter. Not only had he touched Clarisse, he dodged her punch. No one was ever fast enough to dodge Clarisse when she was in a bad mood.

Holding up his hands in surrender, Peter said "Whoa! Hey there, snappy!"

"What in Hades do you think you're doing?" Clarisse asked, her face tomato red.

"Well, I was _trying_ to point out the paper stuck to your back, but if you just wanna leave it there, it's all good."

"What?" Clarisse growled, reaching behind her back. When she read the note, her face went from tomato to cherry.

"Who did this?!" she bellowed, and the entire pavilion looked at her and then quickly down at their plate. Someone snickered from the largest group of campers. He had elfish features and a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

" _Stoll!"_ Clarisse raged. She started forward, and the kid instinctively backed up. Then Peter caught her arm, and several people gasped.

"Hey, let it go, Clarisse! It was just a bad joke," Peter said. Clarisse looked at Peter, then stared at his hand, as if she couldn't believe he was stupid enough to touch her a second time. The whole camp was silent, and everyone was looking at them. Finally, Clarisse just shook his hand off her arm.

"Well… Thank you, I guess." She moved away.

Peter walked over to Percy. He looked dumbstruck. Behind him, at the head table, was a dark-haired man with a large potbelly. He wore an obnoxious leopard spotted shirt and Hawaiian shorts. Next to him sat a thin man in an orange prison jumpsuit, with the numbers 0001 written over his pocket. He had dark bags under his eyes, and gray hair that looked like it'd been last cut with a weedwhacker. Peter wondered if this was Tantalus, who Clarisse had mentioned earlier.

"Well," the dark-haired man said, "-that was something."

"Mmm," Tantalus said in disinterest. He had a plate of food in front of him, and most of his attention seemed to be on it. His hand moved closer to the plate slowly, as if he were sneaking up on it. He got within three inches of the plate, then suddenly snatched at a chicken leg. It zoomed away from him, sailing through the air as if it had suddenly grown wings. Peter cocked his head. Weird.

"Blast!" Tantalus said, pounding the table. Then, he looked at Tyson as if noticing him for the first time. His eyebrow crept up his forehead, and he rubbed his chin. "Well well, what do we have here?"

"You brought a _cyclops_ into my camp, Peter Johnson?" the dark-haired man said.

"Mr. D, if it weren't for Tyson, this camp wouldn't be here," Percy said through gritted teeth.

"Yes, what a pity that would have been," Tantalus said.

"Come on Tyson, Pete, let's go," Percy said, turning around to leave.

"Oh ho no! The monster stays here until we decide what to do with it." Tantalus said with his nose upturned.

"Him," Percy snapped, "his name is Tyson."

"It has a name?" Tantalus said with his eyebrows raised. Tyson pouted.

"Johnson," Mr. D said in a threatening voice, "I advise you to leave now, and let us decide this creature's fate."

Percy's jaw clenched, and he turned, moving very deliberately as he moved toward an empty table.

A satyr blew the conch horn, and everyone paused.

"Yes well, another fine meal!" Tantalus said. "Or so I am told," he said as he inched his hands towards his plate again. The chicken evaded him once more, raising eyebrows in the crowd. This reminded Peter of something he'd heard in his History and Myths class. Tantalus-that was the name of the man who'd been so horrible in life, he earned himself an eternal punishment in the afterlife. He stood in a pool of water with a fruit tree over his head, but could not eat or drink. He realized why this man was wearing a prison jumpsuit, why the food didn't want to be within his reach. But if he was so horrible, why was he made the activities director?

"I'd like to say what a pleasant form of punishment this is," Tantalus said. "I'm looking forward to torturing-err- _interacting_ with each of you. And now some changes! We are reviving the chariot races."

Everyone looked surprised at this. Excited murmuring spread across the camp. Percy frowned. Peter didn't really know what to think.

"Now I know," Tantalus continued, "that we haven't had the pleasure of enjoying a good chariot race at this camp for several years, due to, ah, _technical difficulties_."

"Three deaths and twenty-six mutilations," someone at the Apollo table called. Now Peter was a little uneasy.

"Sir," Clarisse called, using who knew how much willpower to call Tantalus sir, "what about patrol duty?"

"Ah, the hero of the day, the one who single handedly defeated the bulls!" Tantalus exclaimed.

"Uh, I didn't-" Clarisse started saying, seeming to blush.

"And so modest too!" Tantalus interjected. "This is a summer camp; we are here to enjoy ourselves!" Tantalus grinned darkly. "Oh, and the victorious team's cabin will have no chores for a month."

Now everyone seemed excited. No chores for a month?

"But the tree-" Clarisse tried to say before her siblings pulled her back into her seat.

"And now, before we move ahead, Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase have seemed to seen fit to bring this… _monstrosity_ in the camp." Tantalus said, motioning towards Tyson with flailing hands."

Peter's face reddened. Tyson didn't do anything to deserve this. Yeah he was a cyclops, but he had saved the camp from destruction.

"Excuse me sir," Peter called, "but what justification do you think you have to call Tyson a monstrosity?" Everyone looked at Peter again, and he suddenly felt nervous as he remembered what Tantalus had done to deserve eternal punishment. Then he looked at Tyson, his child-like face pleading with him, and his courage returned.

"You were the one who killed your own son and fed him to the Gods disguised as a roast lamb! Zeus himself killed you and ordered you to eternal torment! _You're_ the monstrosity. Frankly, I'm not even sure why you think you should have any authority in this camp." As Peter finished his rant, he noticed the silence that had fallen over the entire pavilion. The satyrs behind Tantalus were shaking their heads, vigorously and belatedly trying to warn him. Mr. D had a smirk on his face, and Tantalus was seething. Everyone else in the camp was speechless.

"Why you-" Tantalus started saying, but then everyone gasped, Peter was confused. What was with the delayed reaction? Then he noticed where they all were staring.

Peter looked up, and saw an image projected above his head. It was a spider, colored green, blue, and red.

* * *

***Dun Dun Dun* So how was it? Comment and point out any mistakes that might've made.**

**This chapter is as good as it is, is solely thanks to my previous Beta and now co-author, BatgirlBeyond(on fanfiction.net). She suggested some really great edits and wrote the new dialogues….so check her stories out if you liked this chapter.**


End file.
